Between Temptation and Loyalty
by ShinNemisElrond
Summary: AU: Gil-galad has survived the Last Alliance, Sauron is defeated. Chapter Four is up! How do Gil-galad and Celebrían deal with their newly discovered feelings? Is their duty towards Elrond standing between them?
1. Word of Warning

**Word of Warning**

Maybe not so much a real warning as some information:

ShinElrond and Nemis have teamed up to write an Alternate Universe Ficcy (AUF) *g*

We are starting PG-13, but if we get our evil way, we will have some higher-rated chapters too, but we shall warn and inform thee when that happens…

**Well, what evilness are we intending?**

You'll have to wait and see, but it suffices to say, Gil-galad has not been killed by Sauron during the Last Alliance, and he and Elrond are on their way back to Imladris…

The first chapter will give you a very good idea of what is going on…

We will be writing alternate chapters, and Nemis will commence the Dark Happenings…

There will be no Gil-galad/Elrond slashiness…

If you still dare, let's get going…


	2. History in the Making...

**Between Temptation and Loyalty...**

by ShinElrond and Nemis

Disclaimer: Not ours… Go bother someone else…

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**Chapter 1 History in the Making…**

**by Nemis**

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They arrived at Imladris celebrating their victory, as they had all the way from Orodruin.

He recalled a feeling of intoxication for the first couple of days, but falling of his horse and nearly breaking his neck had been warning enough to tune it down. Thank Elbereth for Gil-galad catching him when he did.

Elrond was happy to be returning to the Last Homely House.

Celebrían would be at Lindon, he guessed, but he would send a message and ask her to come to Imladris, or he would even travel with Gil-galad to Lindon, once they had rested.

While the Elves had much reason for high spirits; it had, after all, been _their_ High-king that had inflicted the fatal blow to Gorthaur, thrusting Aeglos's tip deep into the evil One's chest, Men had less reason to rejoice and share in their merry-making. 

Both Gil-galad and Elrond had stood by Elendil's body as Isildur had cradled it in his arms, weeping over the loss of a great King. He had lost most, perhaps, in this conflict, a father, a brother, a King and a friend.

It could not be helped, though. It could not be undone…

Under a waterfall of approval, and with the stride of a true victor over Darkness, Gil-galad had returned from Orodruin, where he had disposed of that which was their main reason for being here: the One Ring.

Shouting his name as the army followed him back to the encampment, Elrond and Círdan never far removed, the High-king had been the Star of Radiance he was often called. His eyes had that marvellous glimmer in them, and the proud smile around his lips had never once wavered, sometimes shouting victory slogans with the others, sometimes merely listening.

It was a surprise, though not at all uncharacteristic, when Gil-galad took some quick steps and positioned himself upon a natural height on the plains of Mordor.

Despite the dirt, and the foul orcish blood that had stained his face, helmet and mail, as well as his shield, the overlaid silver, and the white stars, had shone brilliantly, the light reflecting upon them. Elrond had been certain that even those standing at a great distance had easily seen their Lord, their King, and he had felt pride soar within him, placing Gil-galad's banner as high beside his Lord as he could.

Lifting a hand, the High-king had overlooked the mass of Elves, even some Men standing among them, as much an Alliance as during the past seven years. His voice had been loud and clear as he began to speak.

'Elbereth bless you all. This is your victory!' A load roar of approval had echoed towards him, and there was nothing he could have done but wait for it to die down.

Gil-galad had realised the victory, he had truly _felt_ it, at that moment. The pride he harboured for each and every one of the soldiers standing before him, their voices returning the pride a thousand fold. 

'It is…' He had waited for some of the cheering to calm, before continuing. 'It is the victory of the cause of freedom in Middle-earth. In all our long history we have rarely seen a greater day than this. Everyone… _Everyone_, has done their best. Everyone has tried. Neither the long years, nor the dangers, nor the fierce attacks of the enemy, have in any way weakened the independent resolve of our Alliance. Elbereth bless you all…'

Another wave of voices had responded as one, echoing towards them. The words had come easily to the High-king, as always, much like someone unconsciously whispering into his ear, and he had seemed to naturally steer for clearly distinguishable applause lines.

'My dear friends, this is your hour. This is not a victory of Elves or Men or of anyone alone… It is a victory of Middle-earth as a whole.'

He had smiled broadly as the sound mounted once more, and, looking down, had placed his hand on Elrond's shoulder, receiving an unsurprisingly broad grin. Looking back to the gathering before him, his hand had stayed where it was.

'I say that in the long years to come, many in Middle-earth shall look back to what we've accomplished together and they will say "do not despair, do not yield to violence and tyranny, march straightforward and die if need be – but unconquered."'

Even the Men, some of whom had stayed silent previously, now joined into the bellowing proof of conformity, and Gil-galad had waited once more, retracting his hand from his Vice-regent's shoulder in order to raise it high and quiet down the crowd.

'Now we shall emerge from a deadly struggle, after long years, from the jaws of death, out of the mouth of hell - a terrible foe has been cast on the ground and overcome.'

A single call had come from somewhere within the ranks, and though Elrond had tried to find the one who had uttered the words first, he had not been able. In no time at all, the catchphrase had been adopted by numerous others.

'_Ereinion the Vanquisher!_' 

Standing so close, Elrond had been able to see the call rendering Gil-galad speechless for a moment, but, recovering swiftly he had deeply bowed in acknowledgement, before lowering himself unto one knee. 

'I bow to you!' He called, bending his head for a moment. 'For without you, I would be Ereinion the Slain!'

Laughter and applause had been returned and Gil-galad had risen again.

'And now we shall all return home safely, and when this day shall be recalled, the Day of the Victory, you will strip your sleeve and show your scars, and say: _These wounds I begot on the Day of Victory_!'

He had followed his spoken example, lifting his cloak and sleeve, showing the superficial wound he had received not entirely successfully dodging the Dark One's attack. It would heal, but stay forever visible.__

'Then shall our names, be household words, Ereinion Gil-galad, Elendil the Fair, Lindon, Arnor, Imladris, Ithilien, Greenwood the Great, Anórien and Lothlórien, and we shall be remembered in flowing cups.'

A flask had been handed up to him, just before he had finished the sentence, he had raised it before taking a swig, which had been an approved and much-followed example by the majority of those present. Holding the flask and gesturing it, speaking animatedly with it in his hand, he had continued.

'And until the end of Arda, we shall all be brothers through the shedding of our blood. And those that chose not to be here on this happy day, shall think themselves accursed, and hold their manhoods cheap while any speaks, that fought with us today!

Returning the flask to someone near, he had stepped down, throwing an arm around Elrond's shoulders as they continued their way towards the encampment, united in calls.

'_Gil-galad the Conqueror of Darkness!_'

'_Victory to the Mighty Alliance of Middle-earth!_'

Leaving Gil-galad working in his tent, Elrond had spent the last evening in that terrible place with the minstrels around the fire, and together, they had composed the first songs and poems, under the calming influence of some remarkably good wine that had mysteriously made its way from the High-king's tent. Elrond smiled upon remembering, for he knew Gil-galad, just as he, had realised all to well, history was in the making once more. In many years time, their children would sing of this day, of this victory, learning of their feelings, of what happened, through what had been created there that evening. And a good wine made the minstrels more lyrical, it was common knowledge.

Few had slept that night, Elrond was quite certain of it. The adrenaline of the battle was merely over it's high, and would not entirely vanish for a long while yet…

The fire had played tricks on his mind, though… There was not a fibre in his body that he would not have sacrificed to be with Celebrían this evening…

It was early morning when they had broken up camp, the dead buried, the living beginning their journey homewards. He had felt as if constantly inebriated, even though he drank little. The drunkenness of victory, Gil-galad had teased him. He had been correct. And yet the High-king didn't seem much affected himself.

But they were nearing home now, Elrond smiled, as the High-king's party rode over the rim of the deep valley of Imladris. Far below, he could see the countless lamps burning, and he knew it lay waiting, that the messengers had been welcomed and the House was preparing for the homecoming of its Master. It would be filled with light and song, and merrymaking and they could begin to forget the terrible things that they had witnessed, or at least they could try. 

The main part of the group set up their tents just outside the valley, well within the sight of one looking out from Imladris. A smaller party, consisting merely of the Lords of Lindon, Mithlond and Imladris, since the remaining Lords of Mirkwood and Lórien had already bowed off home, made their way towards the Last Homely House.

A heavily reduced number of Gil-galad's honour-guard led the group, as the sun slowly began sinking behind the mountain rim to their right. Directly behind them, the High-king of the Noldor, Conqueror of the Dark lord, his Vice-Regent, the Lord of Imladris, and respectively following, the Lord Shipwright of Mithlond, several Lords of Lindon, Imladris and Mithlond, Glorfindel and Erestor among them.

Upon reaching the stables, they dismounted and were welcomed by the entirety of the household as the victors they were. Handshakes and embraces, laughter and tears of happiness, for the Lady had protected them, and guided them home safely. 

Most of the laughter was caused by the High-king and the Lord of Imladris trying to over-praise each other with each passing remark. Dirty and tired of the road, they were finally able to excuse themselves, and merrily rattling on, began passing through the passages leading to their respective rooms. But as soon as they were out of hearing distance, Gil-galad fell silent. Elrond looked at him sideways and smiled.

'I imagine you are tired…'

Gil-galad mustered a weak grin.

'Not as much as one would expect… And we have much celebrating to do yet.'

With a smile, Elrond moved his hands behind his back.

'You shall be delighted to hear we have saved the best poems for last. I guarantee you, you shall like them. And the ones you have heard already, we shall repeat, naturally.'

The High-king stopped and placed a hand on Elrond's shoulder.

'Elrond, there is…' Not finishing the sentence, he shook his head. 'Never mind, it is nothing. You go and make ready for tonight now, I shall be fine on my own for a while.'

With a short nod, the Lord of Imladris complied and began making his way back through the corridor, into the direction of his chambers.

Gil-galad stretched his arms as he entered into his own rooms, finding two attendants readying a bath and laying out his clothing for the coming evening. With a deep, content sigh he dismissed them and began to undress, dropping his riding armour next to the chair over which he consequently draped his travel clothing.

Feeling the heat of the water, something he had grown quite unaccustomed to after those many years having to settle for small amounts of lukewarm, or even cold water, he waited a moment before stepping into the bathtub, settling back and dipping his head underwater.

Busying himself a while with washing his body and hair, he finally sat back, relaxing his arms on the sides of the bath, resting his head back, closing his eyes. The heat of the water coloured his skin and face, and for an instant, he forgot everything. For a single moment in time, he was who he had always been.

Then he same heat slapped him back into reality, and he abruptly left the wetness, drying and dressing himself, biding his time until dinner pensively seated by the window.

The weather was warm and humid, but the rapidly approaching evening brought some much needed freshness. He had left the door open, and from afar heard voices approaching, Elrond and Glorfindel, chuckles and playful reproaches as always. He waited for the customary knock on the open door before turning. Elrond was beaming.

'My Lord… Ready?'

Gil-galad could not help being infected with the hilarity of the other two Elves and grinned.

'As much as I could ever be…'

Walking between them, not specifically concentrating on anything they were saying, he was glad. They were his friends, not his subjects, they treated him without the mock solemnity some used, both in the past as in the present. 

They were the last to arrive in the banqueting hall, and both Elrond and Gil-galad took their seats at the end of the long table. It was Elrond who rose, after his glass was filled with wine.

'A toast, my friends, to victory!'

With a united call, all joined in the toast, and the feast was begun, though there was more talk than actual consumption of food.

Upon concluding the meal, all made their way to the Hall of Fire, which was packed with many high-ranking officers that had journeyed up from the encampment to attend the first evening of celebrations. It was after some time, that Glorfindel was finally able to bring Elrond around to recite the poem he had contributed most to during the first evenings of composing.

His clear tenor voice rose above all others, and the harpers united their soft plucking of instruments, much as they had during the actual composing, very much familiar with the range and pitch of the Lord of Imladris's tone. Gil-galad watched and listened, smiling, curious of this last of poems. Elrond spoke with reverence and pride, not as objective as usual, and yet no one would dare hold it against him. 

_Gil-galad is the Elven-king.  
Of whom the harpers proudly sing:_

_the one whose realm is fair and free_

_between the Mountains and the Sea._

_His sword is long, his lance is keen,_

_his shining helm afar is seen;_

_the countless stars of heaven's field_

_are mirrored in his silver shield._

_He met the challenge of his foe,_

_Watched the Dark before him glow,_

_And with a thrust of Aeglos fair,_

_He ended Middle-earth's despair._

_He cut the Ring from evil's finger,_

_Did not for a moment linger,_

_For he, as none, did understand,_

_What evil hid within this Band.  _

_He scaled the Mountain in all haste,_

_In which the answer lay encased;_

_And there with fervour did commit,_

_The evil remnant to the pit._

_Of his courage the harpers sing,_

_The Star of Radiance, true High-king  
Of that realm forever fair and free_

_Between the Mountains and the Sea._

Meeting Gil-galad's eyes, watching his face, Elrond was surprised to find the lips a straight line, nothing emitting from the face. Gil-galad rose and bowed shortly in show of appreciation, catching Elrond's arm and exchanging some meaningless words of gratitude with his Vice-Regent. Elrond face had adopted a look of genuine concern. His voice was a whisper; no one but his friend was to hear.

'Are you not well, Ereinion?'

'I am fine, my friend, I merely need some fresh air, please…' He nodded to the singers and musicians. 'Do continue.'

As the High-king left the Hall, Elrond's eyes met Glorfindel's, who neared him, also stricken by the High-king's behaviour.

'What is the matter?' He asked, as both stared at the entrance, where a moment ago, the Victor over Mordor had disappeared through.

'I know not.' Elrond managed, 'Have I done anything to offend?'

Glorfindel rested a hand on his shoulder.

'I certainly have not seen any reason for offence… More likely he is tired, and is only now realising all that has happened. You know how he can be…'

The urgency in his tread seemed very obvious, and he hoped it was only so to him. Outside, Gil-galad was barely able to refrain from running, robes bellowing behind him as he sped to his chambers.

Entering, he slammed the door, a feeble attempt to chase the fear. The bang of the door made him tense. He stood, four or five steps into the rooms, clenching his hands into fists.

Then, stumbling towards the bed he dropped onto it, pulling up his legs and wrapping his arms around a pillow, burying his face against the cool surface. 

'You fool… Do you realise what have you done…?' He whispered to himself, feeling the tears burn behind his eyelids. 

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Most parts of Gil-galad's war speech come from official historical war speeches:

my thanks go out to:

Wilhelm II; Franklin Delano Roosevelt; Sir Winston Churchill; (or their speechwriters) and

Master William Shakespeare

I take full responsibility for the mangling of their words and the Fall of Gil-galad

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Wanna know how it continues? Better hit da button… (please?)


	3. Uncertainty In Dreams

**Between Temptation and Loyalty...******

by ShinElrond and Nemis

**Disclaimer**: As soon as I figure out how to make fictional characters real through advanced human gene splicing, they will be mine, BWAHAHA! But for now…

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**  
Chapter 2 Uncertainty In Dreams**

**  
by ShinElrond  
  
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**  
**The sound of blades tearing through flesh echoed in his ears as surely as his own pounding blood did. Armor ringing with the clash of weapons, voices crying out and the soft thud of bodies falling to the earth, never to rise again and continue the fight, to live on after…

Gil-galad's brow furrowed in his sleep as he tossed and turned, still trying to fight off those who surrounded him, still trying to save those who fought beside him, still trying to do the just thing and bring his people out of the grip of the blackness and pain that wrecked the lands of Middle-Earth… but that goal wasn't clear anymore even though it had been accomplished, hadn't it?  
  


He wasn't certain any longer, he thought his people were safe but something was weighing on his mind even in sleep, or maybe it was just in sleep, he didn't know anymore.  
  


His fist crashed against the mattress as Gil-galad tried to fight off the dark shapes, blurred by his uncertain memory. But suddenly, the shapes were gone and a clear path was before him, leading straight to the mountain. Finally, he could be certain and free his people and many others. A few steps closer and he would free them all… but another dark shape, roughly his own size, loomed before him. Much as he tried, Gil-galad could not evade it and the dark shape cast him from the mountain. As he fell, the ring slipped from Gil-galad's hand, the dark shape his last view, reaching for the ring.  
  


"No!" Gil-galad's cry rang out through his room as he sat up quickly and looked over his surroundings. His breath still coming shakily, he gripped the covers of his bed tightly and only after he had sat motionless for a while did he realize that he was still dressed in the clothes he had worn to the feast.   
  


Feeling that he would find no rest in sleep, the High-king went to the main library of Imladris after changing his clothes, and began looking up ancient threats. All night he stayed in that room, alone, searching for meaning to his dream and yet he did not find it. He awoke the next day, asleep upon a book he did not recall taking out, searching for something he did not recall questioning.  
  


"Ereinion?" The High-king looked up to see Elrond standing in the doorway of the Library looking very worried. 

"Did you sleep in here last night?"  
  


Gil-galad stared blankly at the text in front of him for a moment ere he turned to look at Elrond with unsure eyes. 

"I could not have… I remember retiring to bed last night… I must have come here this morning…"  
  


Elrond became truly worried at this. 

"Are you well my King?" He asked, as he came to kneel by his side.  
  


Gil-galad still stared at the pages in front of him. 

"An account of Morgoth's imprisonment…" He whispered to himself, causing Elrond to look down at the book as well.  
  


"Why did you come here to read this?" Elrond's tone, quiet and reassuring, still did not break the High-king's daze.  
  


"I, I… don't know…" He continued to stare down at an ink picture of Morgoth, humiliated and in chains before the Valar.  
  


"Come, the stress of the battle must finally be weighing on you, I think it's time you returned home." He said softly, as though speaking to a lost child. 

Gil-galad shook his head and a change seemed to come over him as he slammed the book shut, rose hastily and shoved it on the shelf.  
  


"I think you are right, though not about the stress of battle. It is time for me to return to Lindon." 

With a quick pace, Gil-galad left the Library and the presence of his friend, without looking back. Elrond stared after him with great concern. Never before had Gil-galad acted as such, confused one moment and seemingly angry the next.  
  


A worry for the High-king soon overtook many as he had said little to anyone and denied Elrond when he asked if he might journey with them.  
  


"But I wish to see you there safely, my Lord." Elrond had said, as Gil-galad readied his horse and attached the saddle bags.  
  


"Do you not trust my honor guard to see me there safely?" He had replied in a cruel and teasing tone.  
  


"It is not that…"  
  


"Then what? Tell me it is not true that you wish to journey with me to see the lady Celebrían."  
  


Elrond looked at him in pure confusion. 

"Tell me it is true that I can journey to Lindon at any time I want. Believe me, Ereinion, I wish only for your safe journey!"   
  


Gil-galad turned towards him slowly, eyes glimmering and voice soft, yet still cruel. 

"My journey shall be safe without you, Peredhil, worry no more. Besides, you still have a valley to care after, let alone one elf." 

Once more, Elrond was left staring after his King as he mounted his horse and rode off to join his guards. The name Peredhil had been used with affection by Gil-galad when he was younger, but now, Elrond was uncertain how to take it.  
  


Leaving the stables, he sought out Glorfindel, walking slowly along the tapestries that hung on the walls of the many halls he passed through. When he found the golden haired elf, he wasted no time in taking him aside and speaking to him.  
  


"Do you think there is something wrong with Gil-galad?"  
  


Glorfindel's brow narrowed as he thought about the question a moment. 

"I have noticed no change in his demeanor, but, then again, I have barely seen him of late. He's been through each hall in Imladris while preparing for his journey, you know."  
  


Elrond nodded and looked out a window to see many elves and horses preparing for a journey and sighed. Glorfindel looked at him with curiosity and laid a hand upon his friend's shoulder.  
  


"Are you alright, my Lord?"   
  


Elrond jumped at Glorfindel's touch. 

"Yes… I'm just worried about him. He's been… agitated, confused… angry recently but I do not know why. This journey so soon is a product of that anger and he would not allow me to journey with him. I do not know what to do, my friend."  
  


Glorfindel looked out the window as he stood next to Elrond.  
  


"Allow him to go home, Elrond, we've all been through so much, perhaps he most of all. He deserves his own bed." Glorfindel said, but saw no change in Elrond and left quietly.  
  


  
Gil-galad looked out over those assembled and gripped the reins of his horse tighter as a harsh grin played across his lips. But after a short a while, he began to breath heavily and wavered slightly in his saddle, causing those around him to trot to his side in case he fell. The King suddenly looked up and around, blinking his eyelids several times.  
  


"Where are we?"   
  


The elves gathered about him looked to one another ere they looked back to their Ruler with worry. 

"My King, we are in Imladris, preparing to leave it rather."  
  


Closing his eyes, Gil-galad sought memories of what had happened and quickly opened them once more. 

"I must go… I… I will be back."  
  


The elves stared after him in confusion as he slipped from his horse and began to walk back to the courtyard.  
  


Gil-galad found it hard to keep his vision clear as he walked through the halls of Imladris. Nothing seemed like it was or where it should be, he felt as if he wasn't where he should be. 

Keeping a hand on a wall to steady himself the entire way, he finally made it to Elrond's study but ere he could even call his name, the High-king collapsed on the floor.  
  


Struggled breaths accompanied a sheen of perspiration on Gil-galad's forehead as he tried to drag himself up. He finally let his head drop to the cold stone when his vision darkened completely.  
  


  
Elrond walked from the room where he had been pondering shortly after seeing his King half fall of and half dismount his horse and stumble back towards the house. He had been hesitant to try and find him, but a need to keep him safe drove Elrond from the room and from his thoughts.  
  


About to take a different hall, Elrond turned back to see that the door to his study was open and approached slowly. He stepped in and looked about, but his breath caught when he saw Gil-galad felled on the floor.  
  


"My Lord!" Elrond shouted as he went to his side and rolled him upon his back, quickly checking for a pulse before lifting him into the chair that sat in front of his desk.  
  


Gil-galad didn't wake when Elrond snapped his fingers next to his ear, but found it hard not to when the famed healer placed a harsh smelling liquor under his nose. He coughed a few times, still thinking that his lungs were denying him air, before looking up at Elrond.  
  


"Elrond… I-."  
  


"Hush, breathe and drink this." Elrond returned, shoving the cup in front of Gil-galad's face. 

Gil-galad looked as though his face would turn a shade of green at the tasting of the liquid but he drank it under Elrond's stern gaze.  
  


When he had finished the entire goblet, he breathed in deeply and looked back to Elrond, who was still watching him with worry. 

"I wished to apologize to you."  
  


Not really paying attention to what he was saying, Elrond continued to examine the High-king and replied, absentmindedly, "For what?"  
  


"I was harsh to you this morn, I am sorry and I wish for your accompaniment on my journey… that is, if you think it wise for me to make it."  
  


"I don't, but I do think it is best to get you home to rest, it might be a simple case of homesickness that is causing this in you." Elrond said, finally meeting the High-king's eyes, but Gil-galad seemed to stare off into nothingness for a moment. 

"Ereinion?"  
  


Gil-galad's head shot up, but his eyes avoided Elrond's. 

"Yes, homesickness, that simple…"  
  


Sighing and with a dark brow, Elrond helped the High-king up from his chair and led him to his room.

"Why will you not come?" Gil-galad asked as he mounted his horse and stared down at Elrond who stood with his arms crossed.  
  


"As you said before, Imladris calls for my attention."  
  


Gil-galad's face mangled in a slight sadness. 

"I apologized for those remarks."  
  


"You shouldn't have, you were right, I have to much to do here, besides, you are looking much better, you have no need of me this time."  
  


"I have need of your companionship any time, meldir iphant."  
  


Elrond smiled, offered up his arm which Gil-galad took firmly ere he watched Elrond retreat into the house. He gazed after his friend for a long time ere he gave the reins a tender jerk and trotted to the lead of the group, surrounded by his guard.  
  


The party that was to go to Lindon did travel that night, but much slower than it should have, as Elrond had instructed, not wanting to worsen the High-king's state. This made the trip long, but none of those who went upon it seemed to mind.   
  


Echuir was coming about and brought with it many a wondrous sight. Dry river beds were filled again as the warm weather heated the icy peaks of the Blue Mountains and sent water streaming down their jagged sides. The rivers brought growth on the banks that seemed to spread out into the plains, causing the growth of lush green grasses and colourful flowers that dotted the hills. The trees seen by the riders were filling out with thick foliage and their bark was deep in hue.  
  


Needless to say, this good weather was cause for much singing and Gil-galad was not unaffected. His flowing voice could be heard clear across the plains as they traveled to Lindon and it echoed along the chair of the Blue mountains as they approached their destination.  
  


"_We still remember, we who dwell   
In this far land beyond the trees,   
Thy starlight on the Western Seas._"  
  


Gil-galad sung to himself, still admiring the beauty about him, not really realizing that his home had become visible and those about him were singing in joy for it. When finally he did realize what was before him, he spurred his horse on, galloping to his beloved home by the sea.  
  


Greeted by many, Gil-galad was happy to finally retreat to the solitary comfort of his room. He was just about to pull off his tunic when a knock came upon his door and, though tired, Gil-galad would deny none who wished to speak with him. He was pleasantly surprised to see the young Lady of the Golden Wood, radiant as ever, smiling up at him in his doorway.  
  


"Celebrían! You are the most welcome of all who have come to see me this day, come in! Come in!" Gil-galad said exuberantly, stepping aside to allow her in.  
  


"It is very good to see you my Lord, though, I must say that I am slightly confused as to why your journeyed here so quickly from Imladris." Celebrían said as she crossed the room to a seat in the corner.  
  


Gil-galad shut the door and shrugged as he turned to look at her. 

"I longed for my home and Elrond thought it wise that I return sooner rather than later as well."   
  


Celebrían nodded and looked at the High-king but quickly drew her eyes away when they fell upon his bare chest. Gil-galad raised an eyebrow and looked down to see his tunic hanging open. He made to button it back up but Celebrían arose and went quickly to the door.  
  


"I have come at a bad time, I should allow you to wash and relax a bit." She said as she stepped out of the room and quietly shut the door behind her.  
  


Gil-galad looked after her in confusion but his body's ache for the feel of cleanliness drew his attention from the young maiden, and he finished undressing and slipped into a prepared tub of water in the adjoining bath room.  
  


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Meldir Iphant- Old Friend(Literally Friend Old)  
  


Echuir – Spring  
  


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Hit the button if you like Elfies… (or this story… or both)


	4. Who can stand

**Between Temptation and Loyalty**

by ShinElrond and Nemis

Disclaimer: We don't own it, we're just twisting it… bwahaHAha!

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**Chapter 3 Who can stand**

Nemis

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The advancement of Echuir* had changed Lindon as it always did, and it's Lord was content to see it happen, for it had much to do with his state of mind. The white marble streets of the City were filled with laughter and voices; singing and telling their stories. 

Ereinion Gil-galad sat in one of the highest windows of the Palace, watching the passers-by below, not trying to distinguish whether they were Man or Elf, because it did not matter; it was not something that seemed important to him at the moment. It was merely one of the many fleeting thoughts that entered and subsequently exited his mind.

The weather was warm, and the only place where he could tolerate it was here, with the sea wind blowing through the ever-open windows of this near-empty room. He was dressed in a wide tunic and comfortable trousers, which allowed him the space to move he had found to be so important after spending all those years in tight-strapped armour.

His outer robes were neatly draped over one of the few chairs there and the pages of the book he had left lying open on the small table were blown back and forth.

This could very well be called his retreat. The only place where he was truly left to himself, and he treasured it, even though the walls were damp, and few objects could survive permanently in the ever-present draft. He had learned early on that chairs and books were better not kept here for longer periods of time.

Once he descended the flight of stairs leading to the rooms below, his assistants would be waiting, his councillors informed: The High-king is receiving those who desire an audience again.

_But not yet_, he smiled, _not just now…_

They were lenient towards him, he had come to understand. And they should be, he mused.

He had spent eight years on a malodorous plain. He deserved some respite.

The courtyards on which another window looked out were also busy, but these were the courtiers, the royalty and members of the old families that lived at the courts, for various periods at a time. Some had lived here for ages, while others came and went. He welcomed them all, though some more than others.

Some more than others indeed…

As he moved to that window, he squinted against the piercing rays of Anar*, and tried to filter the light through his eyelashes, to be able to see those present today. The green was predominant below, the large squares barely visible beneath the leafy roofs of the trees.

Voices drifted up, and even though he did not concentrate on what they were precisely saying, the murmur soothed him. The resonance of singing rose after a while, and with a start he recognised her voice.

And from within awoke a feeling of doubt. To go down into the courtyard or to stay here; to be unwise or to be responsible. 

_A bit of both_, he decided, grabbing his outer robes and pulling them on as he descended the stairs.

Those waiting were up and about as soon as he arrived in the rooms below.

'Do you wish to call your Council, my Lord?' He was asked.

'I do,' he answered. 'But we shall hold it in the Courtyard… It is too warm to stay inside today.'

Hands behind his back he observed her, as he had for the past weeks, not certain what it exactly was he looked for, somehow sensing he acted in a way that he should not permit himself to. And yet, he could not refrain from doing it.

As she looked his way, he turned and pretended to listen to one of his councillors, all of whom were no doubt wondering why they had been called to the larger courtyard, and not the Council Chamber.

A good explanation could be the fact that the High-king's physicians had advised him to spend as much time as possible outside, since the years he had spent on the dusty plains of Mordor seemed to have had some rather inconvenient effects on his health.

Gil-galad cared little how they would explain it. And though he usually had little patience with the physicians, he did not mind being outside. Certainly not now.

The shot of pain came entirely unexpected, and with a groan he caught the arm of the Elf standing nearest to him, clutching his other arm to his side, trying to regain his composure.

With most of his attendants somehow anticipating such an occurrence, they acted swiftly, and he found himself seated on a nearby bench before he was aware of having been moved. With an additional feeling of shock, he noticed his near collapse had not only drawn most of his councillors there, but also many of the Elves who had been enjoying the morning in the courtyard. Including…

'My Lord, are you well?' She asked, squatting down before the bench, catching the hand he instinctively had offered her. His eyes were panicky, but, unbeknownst to her, it was not the mere pain, rather something else altogether that caused them to be like that.

'Celebrían…' Came a hoarse reply, before he seemed to relax, giving off a warning with his eyes, which made most of the casual observers retreat and go back to what they had been busying themselves with before.

So not Celebrían, whose eyes were resting on him, in a way that very much displeased him. 

Displeased, because he liked it…

'Tis nothing, my Lady…' He tried to breathe in deeply as to control his heart-rate. 'Merely venom that lingers still, I fear.'

Celebrían squeezed his hand and smiled, rising, but still not releasing him.

'What I find strange, my Lord, is that you seem one of the few infected. It worries not only me, but your physicians too…'

Gil-galad mustered a smile.

'And what brings you to speak of these matters with my physicians, Lady of the Golden Wood?'

Celebrían smiled and averted her eyes for a moment.

'It was Elrond who asked it of me, my Lord… But I wished to be informed myself as well. I care as much as he does for your well-being.'

Gil-galad looked away, retracting his hand so that Celebrían was forced to release it.

'Let me not keep you, Lady.'

She still smiled, though some uncertainty crept within her features.

'I would not allow myself to be kept by anyone, if I did not wish it, my Lord.'

The way he looked at her surprised her, as she observed him bite his lower lip slightly, very un-kingly, in her opinion, his eyes searching for something she could not really elucidate.

He was pale, definitely not well, especially judging by this sudden show of illness. She had heard the physicians speak of it, Elrond had written about it in his last letter, but now she had seen it for herself.

And it worried her.

Gil-galad was not the boisterous and charming Elf-lord he had been when she had last seen him.

_No._ She reminded herself. Even when he had called her to Imladris to see Elrond he had been… different. As if he had suddenly been confronted with the gravity of the situation. 

All of this had begun much earlier… She did not know when exactly though.

And it was a strange thing, she mused, as she looked down on the tall Elf-lord, who seemed to be desperate to try and hide how miserable he really felt. He had been High-king for as long as she could remember, and just as Elrond, had been fighting the Darkness long before she was even born. She could not exactly grasp what it was she found strange, perhaps the fact that his grand stature had been somewhat reduced in her eyes, and he turned out to be quite… normal? Definitely not normal… Vulnerable, maybe… 

It was then that another attendant, the head of the Royal Physicians beside him, reached where both she and the High-king were located.

'My Lord, kindly allow us to escort you to the infirmary?'

Gil-galad smiled weakly.

'So you can waste another day unsuccessfully seeking for my ailment? I think not…' Slowly rising, ready to drop back as soon as he felt more of the ache he had felt before, Gil-galad shook his head. 'Rather I shall go and walk in the gardens…'

'You cannot do so alone, my Lord. It would be mere foolhardiness.' The physician interrupted.

Celebrían, still at his side, looked at the High-king, then at the healer.

'If it will be permitted, I shall go with my Lord Gil-galad… It seems obvious he will go for his walk despite you forbidding him to.' She turned towards Gil-galad. 'And perhaps after that he will be more disposed to visit the infirmary… As to make certain he is well.'

The Lord of Lindon smiled, and nodded, before looking at Celebrían.

'You are wise, Lady… Sensible, where I am merely stubborn… It shall be so, if it pleases you.'

The attendant and physician bowed away as Celebrían took Gil-galad's arm. She smiled at him as they began making their way towards the gardens near the sea.

'It pleases me to see my Lord satisfied.'

The remark, coming from her, made him feel the blood rise into his ears and cheeks. _This is wrong, Ereinion…_ He spoke to himself. _This is torturing yourself beyond anything else…_ _Tempting you beyond temptation…_

He looked down at the Elf-lady beside him, quite oblivious to his inner struggle.

With a deep breath, he decided it was better to keep talking, for silence would only allow his mind to wander.

'You parents, my Lady, are still with Círdan?'

Celebrían laughed.

'Perhaps not with Círdan as much as in the Havens, yes, I think they are… They have a way of being at several places at the same time, and I usually only hear of it when they have already moved on.'

'Might we expect them here, you think?'

'It would seem appropriate.' 

Now it was the High-king who laughed.

'Appropriate? I have never seen your mother act in any way because it was appropriate. Though she never acts _inappropriate_ either, I am quick to add.'

With a squeeze in his arm Celebrían nodded.

'Perhaps it is the wrong word.'

Gil-galad smiled, then turned serious.

'Would you not rather go to Imladris now?'

She seemed taken aback for a moment, her mouth opening, but no words coming out. But she recovered.

'I… would not, my Lord. Unless… You would want me to leave?' A little unsure as to how she felt about the entire question, Celebrían looked up at him. The face was solid as a rock.

'Possibly, your father would not appreciate it.'

'Is my father an issue here?' She returned on an impulse, slightly unbelieving those words had truly been spoken.

'I know not.' Impatience could now be clearly distinguished in the High-king's voice. 'We better return.'

They were silent, retracing their steps, though uncomfortably so.

Gil-galad did not understand what exactly had happened, though a sense of relief had surfaced just now. 

If he would drive her away, it would probably make things easier. If she did not come near him, he was bound to be more able to deal with this.

Still holding his arm, the contact making her tingle with remorse, Celebrían, too, tried to deduct what had passed.

Had it been pain, suddenly coming over him, and therefore making him react somewhat irritated? Was he somehow blaming her for not going to Elrond? 

He left her in front of her rooms, and she perceived he had no intention on going to the infirmary, as he, not looking back, disappeared into the opposite direction. With some abandon she let herself fall onto a bench in the hall and tried hard to think.

'No one is to disturb me.' He warned, entering and exiting almost at once. With quick steps he made his way upstairs, not listening to worried repetitions of, _but my Lord_.

_It is for the best_, he repeated to himself. _This is the way it is supposed to be… Let her go to him. Let her be with him…_

There had never been a place for this in his mind, in his heart.

_One would expect your heart is large enough for the both of them. _

_But it is not_, he replied to his own query. _I cannot love her, for it would break him… He would not trust me ever again. And if I do not love her, I shall only push myself closer towards the edge of the cliff… A cliff I am already looking down from… How am I to answer if he asks me why I look upon her as I do?_

The coolness of the stone on his sweaty palms did not comfort him, only increasing the ambiguous feelings inside him. And then, suddenly, a thought he had pushed away ever since they had exchanged the east for more western territories. He bowed his head.

_How much easier would it have been if I had simply not survived? _

As she entered the rooms, faces were turned towards her. She was uncertain as to why, or how she was to act.

'My Lord Gil-galad… He is upstairs?' She asked.

Astounded faces looked back in silence. Only one gave a short nod. Taking some quick steps toward the stairs another was in her way.

'He is not to be disturbed, my Lady.'

Celebrían raised an eyebrow.

'Ask him if he will see me.'

'His Majesty is not receiving anyone.'

An exasperated breath escaped Celebrían.

'If you do not tell him I am here, I shall go up myself, _sir_.'

The Elf-lord stood tall and seemed disinclined to budge, but not very willing to refuse her either.

This slight waver in his complexion was enough for the younger Lady of the Wood.

Pulling up her dresses she moved beyond him, and slowly began to ascend the stairway.

Gil-galad stood with his hands on both sides of the window, head bent, the long hair, partially braided hanging over his shoulders, concealing his face. There was no way for her to study his countenance, no hint of what could be discerned from his features.

Carefully she rested her hand on his back, and felt the muscles tense under her touch.

For a moment she expected him to turn in anger, but instead he straightened his back and suddenly his eyes met hers and she could not move, not speak.

'You should not have come here.' She heard him whisper.

'But I simply do not understand, my Lord.' Came her reply.

'Is that not allowed?' He asked. 'Why must everything I do be clear and reasonable?'

'It is allowed… But am I not permitted to at least ask for an explanation? It involves me… I did not wish to anger you, and if I have done so, I apologise… It was not my intention.'

His hand rose to touch her face.

'You did not anger me… Nothing you can do would…'

Stiffly, as if he had suddenly realised what he had done he retracted the warm fingers from her face.

'Celebrían… You must go now…'

None of her body parts would listen to her, and she could feel a blush creeping up from her neck.

'Please do not send me away…'

Watching him tilt his head she felt his hand catch hers.

Then she felt exceedingly confused, bewildered by actions being taking, perplexed with feelings she felt.

As Gil-galad stood before her, so very close, showing emotions she had long wanted Elrond to show, she was taken aback by her own reaction. Standing closer, she silently begged him to kiss her, permitting the careful parting of her lips, as she felt a hand being placed on her cheek once more.

He felt her fingers on his chest, and at the same time, deep within himself, the excitement of doing something not allowed, an urge he should not be giving in to. Elrond loved her. And then the realisation became more prominent, as an increasing wailing within his mind. _Elrond loves her… You are stealing her away from Elrond._

And yet, these lips kissed him, kissed back, it was not just a one-sided fixation…

Her belly was about to explode, when he placed a hand on her side. Then he unexpectedly withdrew.

She couldn't explain what was in his eyes.

'I…' He started, uncertain for words, words which usually flowed as water. 'I am… begging your forgiveness.' He released her entirely and stepped away. 'Elbereth forgive me…' He mumbled, taking another pace back.

Speechless, confused, Celebrían stepped back and turned, leaving him equally confused. Clinging to the handrail, she stumbled down the stairs.

Gil-galad watched her go, stunned, realising this could not be undone.

_When the senses are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness, who can stand?_

  
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Echuir: spring

Anar: the sun

Last sentence comes from a poem by William Blake "Lullaby"

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Uh-oh… Review? Thankies…


	5. Fear in the Uncertainty

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**Fear in the Uncertainty**

**ShinElrond**

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I still get lost in your eyes  
And it seems that I can't live a day without you  
Closing my eyes and you chase without sway  
To a place where I am blinded by the light   
But it's not right

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Those gathered by the entrance to the stairwell that lead to the High King's chambers looked oddly upon Celebrían as she sped from them. She was uncertain of what had exactly happened; everything seemed to blur at the moment. She remembered Gil-galad and…he had kissed her…he had rejected her…

Without realizing it, she increased her speed, struggling to over come the thoughts that swam through her mind.

Gil-galad fared little better. His uncertainty and fear over what had happened were turning towards anger. Every thought that confused him, tore at him, made his fist want to collide with anything at arms length. His world was turning upside down and leaving him to fall without someone to catch him.

'Would you be so stupid as to do this to him?…would you be so stupid as to do this to her?…would you be so stupid as to deny yourself this…

It was true that love had never really entered the High King's heart, not for a woman aside from his mother anyway, but that had been long ago, before it was hardened by too many years of blood and ruling. He only loved one thing with a clear certainty… Elrond…

Sighing heavily, Gil-galad kneeled before his window, looked out at the clouding sky, placed his balled hands upon it and laid his forehead upon them. A silent plea went up from him to the Lady, begging her guidance in this. 

Rising slowly, not truly knowing if what he was about to do was right, Gil-galad left his chambers to seek the Lady Celebrían.

He looked through as much of Lindon as he could canvas before the rain began and even a little after. Night had already darkened much of the sky before Gil-galad made it back to his home and was ambushed by many of the healers.

"My Lord, you should relieve yourself of those wet clothes immediately."

"Why were you out in the storm in the first place, my Lord?"

Gil-galad listened to the various questions hurled his way as those gathered about him slowly pushed their way towards his quarters, dragging him along. Not willing to be herded or made to answer by those whom he lead, Gil-galad pushed them all away with a very disagreeable look upon his face.

"My reasons for being in the storm are my own, whatever illness is coming over me cannot be half as bad as your constant pestering! I find my clothes quite refreshing in this state and would thank you to leave me be!" Gil-galad finished, puffing out his breath with something attune to growls as he stalked off and not in the direction of his quarters. Those gathered about looked after the King with open mouths and wide eyes.

Gil-galad wrung out the water from the fabric of his stiff tunic and grumbled slightly as he walked at a steady pace to the quarters of a certain silver haired elf. Knocking on the door lightly and timidly, Gil-galad turned the delicate elvish handle and peered inside when no answer came from within.

"Celebrían?"

The room was dark and without sound save from the hard tapping of water droplets upon the windows. Scanning the room, Gil-galad was impressed at how much it resembled the rooms of Lórien with floral and leaf patterns carved into the green marble walls, furniture made of pale mallyrn tree wood and all the cloth visible had been woven by the hands of those who dwelt in the Golden wood, specifically in Caras Galadon. Gil-galad stepped into the room and ran his hand along the wall, smiling lightly.

'She had it changed to her own liking…' He thought, amused, but appreciating very much how she did what she pleased without permission from even the Lord of the palace, the High King of the Noldor.

As he turned from the wall to her dresser, Gil-galad remained unaware of the observer of his activities. The drawings that rested on the cool wooden surface caught his eyes first. A woman with stunning hair was in a gown befitting of a Vala and was locked in an embrace and a kiss with a man, dressed in a velvety blue robe, who's hair matched his wife's in it's beauty but was opposite of it's colour. Smiling, he realized that the delicate charcoal drawing was of Celebrían's mother and father upon their wedding day, on the exact moment they were joined. He could not help but picture the silver haired maiden a gown such as that and how beautiful she would be on a day such as that.

But all thoughts of her slipped from his mind at the sight of the second drawing placed next to it. His mind flooded at once with happy memories of a child and his brother, then with less happier memories of more trying years, filled with blood and battles but also with strengthened bonds forged through friendship. Gil-galad could retrace every line upon it until the picture was complete, he could also name the exact time when every line of worriment had creased that face, every moment his stormy grey eyes had darkened just a bit.

Sighing heavily, Gil-galad let his hand slip across the wood of the dresser as he sat upon the bed and looked out the window. He was startled by a voice behind him.

"Do you always take to going about other peoples rooms when they're not in?"

Recognizing the voice immediately, Gil-galad turned to see a figure outlined only by the little light that came through the window and sparkled on the edge of her dress and in her blue eyes.

Replying quickly, Gil-galad said, "It seems quite obvious that you are here…"

Celebrían gave no reply to the comment and Gil-galad wondered at her eyes, so much like her mothers in the way they were calming and frightening all at once but she had her father's steadying presence which Gil-galad felt as he lifted himself from the bed and went her. 

"We cannot simply forget what happened, can we?" He asked quietly.

Celebrían looked at him for a while before shaking her head, "I don't think we can…"

Standing with a tense posture, Gil-galad waited a moment before slowly speaking his next words. "Should we?"

Celebrían's head shot up and her eyes met his in curiosity. "What do you mean? Does the name of Elrond mean nothing to you?"

Kneeling before her, Gil-galad took her hands in his and stared pleadingly at her. "It means the world to me…He means the world to me…but this," he squeezed her hands tightly, "this is undeniable…I have never felt for anyone as I do for you and," Celebrían smiled as Gil-galad gave her a warm curl of his lips and a deep look of his eyes, "and I do not even know what it is I feel yet…"

Celebrían let the smile slip from her face and freed her hands of Gil-galad's. "I do not yet know what it is I feel for Elrond…or you…"

Gil-galad's brow's knitted as he cast his gaze to the ground and let his own smile go. "Would you be willing to explore whatever feelings you harbor for me?"

Another look from Gil-galad's light grey eyes and Celebrían could not refuse him and she allowed a smile to play across her lips again. "I would be willing to spend the eve's meal with you Ereinion."

Gil-galad knew to take the use of his father given name as meaning that the dinner would be that of more than simple friends. He picked himself up from the floor and helped her from her chair.

Celebrían looped her arm with Gil-galad's and hugged it closely as it was a rare occasion when Elrond would allow such close contact when walking. Gil-galad didn't mind it by any means and opened every door with one hand every time along the way to the main hall.

Gil-galad and Celebrían reluctantly let go of one another both to keep any suspicion from arising and because they needed to take seats. He helped her into her seat and took his quickly as everyone seemed to look at them due to their rather late coming and the outburst from the High king not a half an hour ago.

"Do you enjoy Silvan food?" Gil-galad asked after a relatively long period without talk.

"I was raised on it, of course I do but…but father makes this one dish, it tastes like…a kiss of starlight actually…" She finished and turned her eyes to her plate.

Gil-galad's face held a moment of amazement but he changed it quickly. "I…was never very fond of Sindarin cooking…always seems to give me a rather uncomfortable feeling." Celebrían looked back up as Gil-galad quickly back peddled, "But there are the few that stand out, taste incredible…the few that you cannot help but love…"

For one second, their eyes met but the next, quickly parted and, though a great deal of the meal was spent in silence, the two learned a great deal of one another in those moments, more so then when they talked of anything that came to mind.

When the entertainers had finished their own meals, they excused themselves from their tables and made their ways up to where the instruments were placed and began to play and sing. Every elf in the large room seemed content upon merely watching and listening, but it was well known that taking to dance before the King did was very rude and out of place, thus, the empty floor was a burden upon the High King and he found himself reaching for the hand of the Lady in front of him.

Celebrían looked at her own hand when the High King grasped it, looking up at her before standing and slowly raising her from her own chair. Celebrían kept her eyes on his this time, not caring who saw or what uncomfortable situations lay between them and Gil-galad never took his eyes from hers either, even as his arm slowly wound around her waist and pressed her to him. Celebrían grasped the High King's left hand which extended to their side tightly in her right as they glided along, feeling the weight of the eyes of the entire room falling upon them.

Normally, Celebrían was used to many eyes being on her but this was different, these were elves who held court with the High King of the Noldor. She thought it funny that she should be so conscious of them and not the man himself…

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Gil-galad whispered, tilting his head down so that the movement of his lips tickled her ear.

"Under any other circumstance, I would find this terribly romantic." She whispered, looking about the room and noticing that no one else had yet risen to dance.

"Oh? And what is it under these circumstances?" He asked, more than a slight hint of amusement in his voice as he had begun to thoroughly to enjoy himself.

"Terribly frustrating." She whispered to him, breaking their eye contact before she did so and leaning her head upon his shoulder. Gil-galad felt her release a long held breath when another couple took to the floor, and was followed by another.

"Have you enjoyed the evening though?" He asked, as though it were a question the answer too, he didn't really care about even though he watched her intently.

"The eve has been taxing…," Celebrían felt a slight stiffening in the muscles of her partner and could not help but smile, "But the company has been indescribable…"

Gil-galad relaxed and placed on a large grin, "I take that as a good thing?"

Celebrían looked at him and smiled after a minute, "You may take that as a very good thing."

"We cannot do this my Lady."

"And why not?"

"It is not very pleasant…"

"Says you! If you've never tried it then how can you know?"

"I have tried it, many a time and I found it…did not please me in the least."

"I guess you are right, you are too old to enjoy such things…"

Gil-galad gave a 'humpf' before replying, "I will do such things well into my 50 000th year…though more than likely for the love of a woman…" He grumbled, recalling his lengthy trip into the lands outside of Lindon in his search for the Lady.

Celebrían Smiled, "those who love the sun have never danced in the rain." She shouted before running through the door, into the downpour.

Gil-galad sighed before giving chase, though he found it hard to see clearly through the rain as it made it's way down in sheets. But he found, after a while of chasing, that Celebrían danced easily in the tepid rain, even when they ran through the forest and she was without care as she did so.

'Maybe there is something to be said for dancing in the rain.' He though with a grin as he finally lunged and caught Celebrían. Though he did not mean to, Gil-galad threw off both of their balances and both fell to the ground but the High King landed on bottom with the Lady still in his arms, her laugh still easilly heard with her back to his chest.

They wound up just like that, alone on the ground, letting the rain fall upon their faces until Gil-galad spoke. "Has anyone else ever done this with you?"

"Do you mean has anyone else ever been without mind enough to do so? Yes…"

Gil-galad looked over at her, still with eyes closed she looked tot he black sky and saw light.

"It was Elrond…believe it or not, though he was a great deal more willing that you were."

"It doesn't surprise me, he used to run through the forests in the rain all the time, trailing Elros…"

Celebrían opened her eyes and looked over at Gil-galad who was looking up to the sky now, blinking every once in a while as the droplets hit his lashes. She moved her hand over his which was inches from it and grasped it tightly. "Do you miss him?"

"I miss them both from when they were children…"

Celebrían stood up and leaned over Gil-galad as she offered her hand to him. 

"What, done already? This was your idea…"

"You're shivering Ereinion…"

Gil-galad looked down to see that he was, though he wasn't certain why he was in the warm rain. As he took her hand, Gil-galad noticed the slight mud stains on her back and caught her before she led him into the palace again. Celebrían tensed at the feel of his strong hands upon her shoulders and did not relax the entire time he swept them down her back, again and again.

"Ereinion, what are you doing?"

"Mud on your back." Was all he simply replied. When he saw that most of the stains had washed from her dress by means of rain and his hands, Gil-galad leaned down and whispered, "There…"

Stiffening even more, Celebrían felt the tickling of her ear as Gil-galad breathed against it again.

The two made their way into the palace and unknowingly steered for Gil-galad's room. When they came to it, Gil-galad spun immediately to face her. "Tea."

Celebrían looked at him oddly.

"Allow me to change into more comfortable clothing and then we can go for tea before retiring for bed…"

Celebrían nodded but was surprised when Gil-galad held the door open for her. "It is rude to leave anyone standing outside your quarters, even if you will only be a moment."

Watching as he went into his bathroom, taking along a change of evening clothes, she sat upon his bed and waited but found that her eyes often strayed to the door of the bathroom and caught the sight of bare flesh of an arm or the chest. Gil-galad was surprised then, to find that Celebrían would not keep her face level and had a blush visible even in the dim light.

They repeated the process again but Gil-galad elected to stay out of her room and would not be budged, no matter how much Celebrían told him it would be rude of her. Gil-galad found that he could barely take his eyes from her figure as they walked to the dining hall, dressed in their night clothes.

Sharing a glass of tea, Gil-galad watched Celebrían look about the empty dining hall.

"How are the circumstances now, my Lady?" Gil-galad whispered to her, sliding his hand beneath hers.

"Terribly quiet…" she said, giving his hand a slight squeeze, "and you may take that as a good thing…"

They then let the silence settle, drinking their tea in quiet, their entwined hands between them.

~*~*~

*sigh* they're too cute…

The little song bit is from "Good bye to you" by Michelle Branch, it seemed fitting is all…


End file.
